Page 51 of Orphan Girl's Mountain Men

I'm totally unprepared for the surge of jealousy that slams through me like a thunderbolt. I shouldn't feel this way, damn it. It has nothing to do with me—except that I noticed Reed likes her too, and every time his eyes land on the two of them, they darken.

I caught him on his way back to his room earlier this morning, and from the shiner on his eye, I figured he got into a bar fight last night. He was muttering something about Dean being a "big cheater." Believe it or not, Reed is usually pretty even-tempered. It takes a lot to make him lose it. But the way he looked yesterday before he tore off into the night—it was like a demon was riding him.

And now, seeing Hailey leave Dean's office, I walk toward it. I tell myself I'm doing this for Reed, not because of my own jealousy. I tell myself I'm not just walking in there to see the remnants of their lust—to smell her in the air, as depraved asthat is. I'm going to set Dean straight on Reed's behalf, because what they're doing to him isn't fair.

When I get there, Dean is standing at his window. Items from his desk are scattered across the floor, and the empty space where she had lain is glaringly obvious. I wonder if he went down on her. I wonder if he fingered her. If that's why he's standing there with his hand near his face like he's still inhaling her.

Fuck, the entire room still smells like her. It makes my body tighten beyond belief, flooding my brain with images I have no business entertaining.

"What happened?" I ask, my voice low and steady.

Dean's eyes open slowly, but he doesn't answer. He turns to stare out the window at the vast field beyond.

Jesus, this is bigger than sex. I've never seen a woman affect Dean like this. And come to think of it, I've never seen a woman affect Reed this much either. They're both obsessed, and if they're not careful, it's going to destroy our friendship.

"She needs to leave," I say.

Dean's jaw clenches. He still doesn't look at me, so I keep going.

"Can't you see what's going on? How am I the only one who sees how dangerous this woman is?"

"We had a deal."

"Screw your deal. Screw her land. She's got Reed getting into bar fights and now you're standing here like you want the world to end simply because you fucked her. That's not healthy. And if this keeps up, it's going to break both of you—for good."

His eyes finally flicker to mine.

"We've never let a woman come between us before, but I've never seen either of you this far gone. Take it from someone who's been in love for years—it's painful, loving someone and not being able to be with them. That kind of pain breeds anger.Resentment. Stop this before it gets there. Send her away, Dean."

Dean sighs and closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. I can see he's considering it, and on some level, he must know I'm right. But finally, he shakes his head.

"That's not fair to her. It's not her fault we're all attracted to her." He gives me a look, daring me to deny the 'all' part of that sentence.

I clench my jaw, but I can't.

"I'm not going to punish her for something that's not her fault," he repeats.

"It's not punishment. She's already learned a lot from being here." Everyone sees how hard she works. I feel guilty even suggesting this, but I tell myself it's for her sake too. "She could keep learning from her own place. She could still come by once a week or something. But we need some distance. For everyone's sake."

"We do—or you do?" He gives me a sharp look. "Are you doing this for me? For Reed? For her? Or is it actually because you're into her yourself but you can't admit it?"

My face heats. "You know I'm right."

"Okay." He gestures to the door. "The farm's one-third yours. If you think she shouldn't be here anymore, you can go ahead and get rid of her. But you'll have to do it yourself."

"You think I won't?"

He raises an eyebrow but says nothing. His face says, 'I know you won't'.

I grit my teeth and leave.

He thinks I won't go through with it. But I will—if it means saving my best friends from heartbreak.

As I cross the field toward her cabin, I rehearse what to say. I don't want to hurt her, so I need something firm but not harsh. She can't stay—but two or three visits a week is enough. That'llgive her what she needs without this constant tension of her being here twenty-four hours a day.

I hesitate outside. This is the first time I'll have entered this cabin since… since Georgia passed on. It's where we lived together, where we made love—where we made Grace in fact, and where we raised her after she was born. Just the three of us. Georgia, and me, and little Grace in her cot by the side of our bed. I take a deep breath, steadying my nerves. Come on Lennon, you're a fucking SEAL for Christ's sake. It's only a cabin. Only a cabin… but for me it's a cabin full of memories. Full of ghosts.

I push the door open quietly. She's lying on the bed, reading a leather-bound journal. Her face is caught in a tangle of emotions—grief, amusement, nostalgia. I pause. Her hand lifts to her mouth, and a tear slides down her cheek.

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